


Hurts to Breathe

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, First War with Voldemort, Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 13:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5930656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it possible to love a person you know isn't meant for you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurts to Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

My mother always used to say to me that there's an intended person for each of us, and we'll find them if we only look hard enough. I remember sitting on the living room floor with my back to her knees as she idly ran her fingers through my hair. She knew it soothed me, soothed the **wolf** in me, to be petted like that. Dad always sat on the sofa at the other side of the room, and every time Mum said her piece, Dad would look at her and give us both a small, quirky sort of smile and say, "Not true, Catherine. There are **two** people for me, and they're both right here."

I was never the sort of child who got squeamish at the thought or sight of my parents kissing. They did it a lot, and it warmed me right through to know that the two people who'd given me life were so deeply in love that they couldn't bear to spend any more time apart than their jobs necessitated. They never needed to say it or anything. It was there in their eyes and the closeness of their embraces and the tense way they held their shoulders when the other was a few minutes late home from work. They needed each other in order to survive, and to me that was the most beautiful thing in the world.

I used to love fairytales. Call me girlie if you must, but I think **all** children dream of a love that deep, the sort of love that saturates those old stories and wakes up sleeping princesses from cursed sleep, and it was bliss beyond compare to see the love in reality. But the years passed, and Dad suddenly became seriously ill with some sort of disease. I hated them for not telling me exactly what was wrong with him. I could tell they all thought nine was too young to understand. Well, they were wrong; I **completely** understood the part that was important. I knew Dad was dying. I could tell by the way the light in Mum's eyes began to dim. She never sang any more. You'd have loved her voice, Sirius. She sang like an angel and danced like a summer breeze, but after Dad died she couldn't because she wasn't alive any more.

Don't look sceptical. You know what I mean. She was alive, but she wasn't **living**.

That's when the thought of soulmates began to frighten me. I mean, it's been a whole decade, and Mum still cries herself to sleep most nights because it hurts to breathe without Dad's chest moving in unison next to hers. She's not even forty yet and she has this marvellous, natural beauty like a woman from a Waterhouse painting, but she'd never even contemplate going out with another man.

Yes, there **is** a point to all this, and I'm trying to get there. Tell me, Sirius, do **you** think there's truth in the notion that we each have a soulmate?

Oh, my love... don't cry! Please, I never meant to make you cry. Here, let me... Sirius, don't shy away from me. You don't have to be ashamed of crying. And... are you listening to me Sirius? **Never** be ashamed of loving, okay?

Of course I know. How could I not have noticed? I watch you all the time. I can't help it, there's something about you that makes me feel truly alive, like I'm flying even when my feet are on the ground. It's okay to love and it's okay to be sad. I can see the look in your eyes. It's like the emptiness I see in Mum's every time I visit her. I know, dear heart. You're not your intended's intended, and it hurts. I know, because I feel the same way.

It's a messed-up world, isn't it? I don't know who organises these things, but they've done a really shoddy job on our little group. Lily and... and James are intended for each other. That much is obvious to anyone who sees them... hush, darling, please, **please** stop crying... but I believe James is your intended as well. And you're mine.

How do I know you're mine? I just do, in the same way you ache for James' lips on your neck and the touch of his bare skin against one side of you and fresh bedsheets on the other. Believe me, my heart, I've cried more than enough tears for the both of us. If you calm yourself, I have more to say.

That's better. Now, listen to this. I believe in the idea of soulmates, but that doesn't mean we have to live by Fate's twisted mockery of rules. It's just unfair, Sirius, and I know you agree with me on this one. I believe -- and please hear me out -- that one can have a full, happy life without one's soulmate. Think of all the people who never even get to meet the other half of themselves. We've been extraordinarily lucky -- or **unlucky** , as I suppose we should really see it.

Look at Frank Longbottom and Rose Maguire. They're in love, but I don't believe they're soulmates. I don't know what it is, I just don't sense that spark that was there between my parents, that James shares with Lily. Still, they're engaged, aren't they? They're going to get married and have a family and live their lives with someone they love. And maybe they won't stay together forever. They might divorce, or one might go off and have an affair with someone, or a whole string of affairs with a whole string of someones -- ah! That was nearly a smile! They might part in the future, but until then they'll be as happy as they know how to be, and that'll be enough for them.

Love, I'm sure those who know the perfection a soulmate can bring to everything will find it harder to go on with life alone and fall in love, but you see, Sirius... the point I'm trying to make is that...

Oh, I don't know. I'm being selfish and I'm sorry, but you must understand that true lovers want the object of their affections to be happy, right? That's why you didn't make a fuss when James told you he wanted to be with Lily. You love him, Sirius, with every single atom of your being, and you **do** belong to him, but he doesn't belong to you. It's the same between us. I believe you're mine. I love you. I know I'll never make you happy enough, but I love you beyond the power of speech and actions, and if there's even the slightest chance that you'll be happy with me, despite our not being soulmates, then we should take it.

I love you. If you accept me, I'll ask no questions and expect no promises. I won't ask you for declarations of undying love. Any times you come home late with alcohol on your breath and the ghost of another man's aftershave clinging to your shirt collar, I'll look the other way until you've brushed your teeth and changed for bed. And if you ever say another name there when you should be crying Remus, I'll just hold you tighter. I'll pull your face down so your forehead rests on mine and I can look into the sapphire eyes that have haunted my dreams since we first met, and when the tears form and drip onto my face, I'll accept them and kiss the tracks from your cheeks and take as much of your aching sorrow into myself as possible, because, dear, it hurts my heart so much to breathe without you that pain is a blessing.

It'll never be perfect, but I think I can make you smile. And don't you think that just might be worth it?

~END~


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